


Just Keep Talking

by rispacooper



Series: That Bones/Criminal Minds Cracky Crossover Love Story [9]
Category: Bones (TV), Criminal Minds
Genre: Age Difference, Crack Pairing, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Developing Relationship, Dirty Talk, M/M, Phone Sex, Spoilers, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-08
Updated: 2012-03-08
Packaged: 2017-11-01 16:00:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/358667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rispacooper/pseuds/rispacooper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because dlasta pointed out that they need to have the Foyet conversation and because Wendell speaks kindly and softly to the dead and because phone sex. Because phone sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Keep Talking

**Author's Note:**

> I have a problem. My name is R. Coops and I am a Wotch-a-holic. Thank goodness I have to work now and there is something to stop me! Get the pretties out of my head please.

Wendell couldn’t get Booth’s words out of his head. He’d heard of that, people having obsessive thoughts, dark thoughts, the kind of thoughts they couldn’t escape, but he had never felt it before. Wendell was a squinty nerd even to Booth but he didn’t think he was as obsessive as the definition implied, he saw himself more as determined. Maybe persistent. A dogged investigator in the field of forensic anthropology. 

But Booth hadn’t been talking bones, Booth had been talking people, the _anthropology_ in Wendell’s job description, and every hesitant, reluctant word out of his mouth was now stuck in Wendell’s head and work and hockey and going to the gym couldn’t make them go away. 

Talking was supposed to get them out, but who was he supposed to talk to? Booth? Booth had already made his feelings clear. 

_God knows that I would do the same thing if someone threatened Parker or Bones, I’d kill them with my bare hands and have no regrets, but this isn’t me, this is you and I…thought you should know. Now never say a word about this or anything else involving your personal life or feelings to me ever again, okay? I’ll see you later._

Booth had come down to Limbo, shared the story that had obviously been bothering him, and then left within the span of fifteen minutes. Knowing Booth like he did, Wendell was surprised Booth had decided to talk to him at all. Booth wasn’t prejudiced, but anything about the details of anyone else’s relationships, especially between a friend and a fellow agent, made him uncomfortable. 

When Angela had dumped him, Booth had taken Wendell out to get him drunk and never said a word about it. Even today, with all the things Booth had revealed, both official and unofficial from Aaron’s file, Booth hadn’t actually admitted to knowing Wendell and Aaron were dating. 

If that was what they were doing. It was hard to tell when Wendell hadn’t heard from Aaron in a while. Four days, not that he was counting, or remembering the last time he had spoken to Aaron.

Maybe that was the reason Wendell couldn’t get the words, the images, out of his mind. There was nothing to take them away. Wasn’t that what Aaron said he did when he was working on something so ugly that he almost lost faith in humanity? He went and he talked to people, to good people, to his son. He’d hole himself up in his hotel room or on the bathroom of the plane and he would call Jack and listen to him talk. 

Wendell had no one who would understand except for Booth, and Booth wasn’t going to be taking his calls today. 

But he got home and made himself some noodles and then shut himself up in his bedroom with them, all without even so much as a twitch from his passed out roommate on the couch. 

He had no messages but he hadn’t expected any. Aaron wasn’t talking and Booth had said all he’d needed to say. 

_Did SSA Hotchner tell you that he’d killed a man?_

Direct and very Booth, but not disapproving. Booth had killed people in the line of duty too. That obviously hadn’t been what he’d been talking about. Wendell had known it right away and had straightened up from his scope. 

Booth had been holding a file. Not Aaron’s, but a folder on a serial killer, complete with pictures. Booth had made his point by opening the file and spreading them out. On some level, Wendell could see his point; if Wendell wanted Aaron he had to want his job too, or learn to deal with it, and the images of bloody bodies were a lot more recent than the mummies Wendell might be examining for his summer field work. 

It hadn’t made Booth’s point any easier to take. The file had held a lot of pictures of victims. Aaron had been among them, as well as his wife, or ex-wife, cleaned up and cold on a morgue table. Maybe she had been a part of Booth’s point too, to show Wendell what Aaron had been through and what he’d done and to show Wendell the potential risks of what he was letting himself into. 

Aaron hadn’t backed down, not even when threatened by George “The Reaper” Foyet. He had known the cost and he had done it anyway. And Wendell was trying to take that on? Be a part of that? 

He was glad Booth had left when he had, because Wendell wasn’t in any mood to thank him. He ate his noodles because they cost money and he had to eat, but his mind wasn’t on them. It was on Aaron’s hands. The hands that he had killed someone with. The hands that had held Wendell to the door of his room five nights ago and touched him, carefully, through his jeans. 

Slow and careful, like he’d never touched a dick before, like it was going to hurt Wendell, when it _had_ but that had been chafing and slowness of it, like high school but so _slow_ , killing him. If he hadn’t been so surprised that Aaron had taken over like that he might have done something, not just bumped his head against the door and gasped against Aaron’s mouth the _oh God finally please finally FINALLY_ that had made Aaron stop. 

They didn’t have much free time, not free, alone time. Just time enough for dinners or movies or once, a dinner ending with Aaron calling everyone to Quantico for a hurried briefing with Wendell sitting in before Aaron had found a way to get him home. For anything else, for the slow build that was driving Wendell crazy and giving him blue balls and leaving him without any kind of restful sleep, there was almost nothing. There was Wendell’s roommate or Jack or work or school, always. 

Wendell wouldn’t trade the dinner or the discovery that Aaron loved _The Princess Bride_ like a fourteen year old girl, but he was starting to think that either Aaron was hiding behind it all or that Aaron was tormenting him on purpose. 

Why, he couldn’t imagine, but sooner or later Wendell wasn’t going to be able to stop himself from throwing Aaron down and teaching him that slow was bad. Slow was not good when you weren’t getting any. If Aaron was nervous or worried about his performance he shouldn’t be; he could just hold on and let Wendell do all the work, but this had to happen. 

He _liked_ Aaron’s hands on him, the way Aaron had studied him and his reaction, that gun-sure grip of his, but he also liked coming and he wanted Aaron to come and he wanted them both to happen while they were together and not just in his mind while he got out the lotion. 

He was breathing harder at the thought, the blood pounding in his dick, not that it would do him any good to torture himself. To wonder why Aaron would drag himself away when he had liked it too. Wendell had felt his flushed cheeks and the hard cock pushing into him; Aaron had liked it. He’d wanted more. 

But Aaron must not be sure, even after everything. 

Or maybe that wasn’t it at all. Today because of Booth, Wendell wondered if Aaron had backed off because he’d wanted Wendell to know more about him before he made that kind of commitment. Maybe Aaron was a lot like Booth and thought Wendell should know, and instead Wendell had invited Aaron into his tiny bedroom to show him something stupid and also his bed, his bed right there, available for sex just like Wendell, and Aaron had been trying to bring up the subject, to introduce things Wendell had needed to know and had gotten frustrated enough to push Wendell to the door. 

What had happened after that had probably been an accident. Proximity, the same frustration that Wendell was feeling, or just how Wendell’s brain—his dick—had assumed it had meant sex and reached up to pull Aaron in for a serious, world-ending kiss. 

Then Wendell had said something and Aaron’s phone had rung almost at the same time, JJ letting him know that he’d had a case that required his immediate attention and then Aaron had left. Flown out to Atlanta that same night and been there four days now. He’d said goodbye, Aaron was always sure to say goodbye when he flew out, Wendell had noticed that though he hadn’t wanted to think about why, but now there wasn’t much else to think about. 

Aaron lived with danger. He’d brought it into his home, even if he hadn’t meant to, and he’d paid a price for it. But he wouldn’t expect Wendell to understand, if Wendell _did_ understand, he still didn’t know. So instead he held back and waited and except for one moment against a door, had let Wendell push for more. 

Wendell’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He looked at the number and frowned, but he only held off for a few seconds before he answered it. He’d expected anyone else in the world to call before he’d thought he’d hear from Aaron tonight. 

_This Foyet guy was a sick piece of work_ , Booth said in Wendell’s mind. But Aaron had caught him, killed him, by getting into his head the way profilers were supposed to. Then he’d gone back to work and his team had closed ranks around him and had only stepped back enough to, kind of, sort of, let Wendell in. 

“Hey,” Wendell greeted him and got up to make sure his door was closed and to put his bowl of noodles on a shelf. Then he walked back to the bed and sat on the edge. 

“Are you busy?” Aaron’s voice was brisk and business-like, coming in so clearly it was hard to believe he was a ten hour drive away. If he was that far away. He could have been in DC for hours or days before Wendell would know about it. 

Okay that thought was too pathetic. Wendell had officially lost his mind over Aaron if he was whining about hours. 

Wendell had books to read, but “No, no I’m not busy” was what he heard himself say. He thought he sounded pretty casual. Aaron evidently didn’t agree. 

“What’s wrong?” He imagined Aaron in a dark work suit but couldn’t tell if he was in a car or on the jet. Wendell couldn’t tell anything and made a frustrated sound. 

“You can probably tell what I ate for dinner just from the sound of my voice.” He glared at his ceiling. 

“You usually eat noodles unless someone else is paying.” Aaron chose to take him literally. Wendell wanted to hit him through the phone. 

“I can’t even tell where you are.” He bit off the words, not sure why his voice was rising but aware that it was. Stupid. It was stupid to feel this anger and to be talking this way when Aaron had called to talk to him. Aaron didn’t call home when he was working unless he needed to, otherwise he wanted them separate. That was how he’d explained it with a milkshake between them and his eyes on Wendell eating the cherry. When he was at work, he tried to be one hundred percent at work, and when he was at home, he didn’t want his work to touch it. 

If he called it was because Jack needed him or because he needed Jack. To know he was safe and to love him unconditionally and sometimes just to hear him talk. The conversation of a seven year old was Aaron’s antidote to thinking like a killer. He might have tried to call Jack and Jack had been asleep, so he’d called Wendell. It was an unexpectedly warm thought, but it made him feel restless at the same time. If Aaron was coming off a case, he didn’t need Wendell snarling at him. 

“In Atlanta,” Aaron answered, knocking the wind out of Wendell just that easily. “In my hotel room. I am supposed to be trying to get some sleep on my team’s orders.” 

Wendell took a second. “This isn’t sleeping.” He didn’t sound any better than he had a second ago. “This is…what is this? I don’t even know what this is. Is this a booty call? No it can’t be. We haven’t… _Fuck_. How immature do I sound right now?” 

He didn’t expect an answer but he stopped anyway. Aaron took a breath and then let it out. It sounded shaky, tired. Because he hadn’t slept because he’d been in Atlanta chasing a monster. Right. 

Wendell fell back across the bed and shut his eyes as he scrubbed at his face. 

“Is this a bad time?” Aaron broke the silence after about twenty seconds. Wendell opened his eyes. 

“Today I found out that you beat a guy to death with your bare hands and I don’t know how I feel about it, so I don’t know what a good time would be,” he announced as plainly as he could and then shut his eyes again. “I don’t want to talk about it though I guess that is the kind of thing you are supposed to talk about before someone stays the night.”

“Wendell…” Aaron was still breathing way too carefully, which was something considering that Wendell had just stormed clumsily into a traumatic moment in Aaron’s life. Wendell wouldn’t have been that controlled in Aaron’s situation. He would have yelled or hung up or punched someone. 

“I feel like an asshole,” he added in a softer voice. Aaron’s wife had died and that Foyet guy had threatened his son and attacked Aaron, and Wendell was mad because Aaron didn’t want to talk about it? “I am such an asshole. God I’m an asshole. Why do you put up with me? Really, why do you like me?” 

“Right now it’s hard to say.” That dry remark was closer to the Aaron Wendell was used to, but Aaron was still too quiet.

“I’m serious.” Wendell gripped the phone tightly. “Why…” He swallowed. “Why are we even doing this?” He thought of Aaron on the other end of this call, maybe holding his phone just as tightly, and waiting, waiting like always for Wendell to be sure and take the lead. It took effort, but he controlled his breathing too. “Never mind. I won’t feel like this tomorrow. I should jack off and go to bed and you should do what you need to to get some sleep and not worry about me.” 

There was a short, stifled laugh about halfway through his speech, probably Aaron laughing at Wendell’s honesty about jerking off. But it wasn’t like Aaron didn’t know that he was frustrated. It was more likely that Aaron wasn’t used to his dates being so frank about it. He’d probably tried dating lawyers and it had given him some strange ideas about people. Aaron had some weird, old-fashioned ideas about sex in general, especially for a guy who could probably list fetishes Wendell had never heard of. Aaron had probably never even had phone sex, not even when he was away, because he’d always tried to keep work and home separate. 

Wendell sighed and rubbed his thumb across his forehead. 

“At least I can make you laugh.” He could do more than that, but Aaron apparently wasn’t down for that yet. 

“You do have a way with words.” He wondered if he was imagining the humor seeping into Aaron’s voice, or the change the sounds he was making away from the phone. Rustling, creaking, as if Aaron were sitting down on his bed too. 

“That’s why you like me?” Wendell cleared his throat to keep his tone light. “My dirty mouth?” 

He got the feeling Aaron was dead on his feet exhausted because he didn’t stop to think about his answer the way he should have. “Wendell I like you because you say things like that. You're honest, you're hardworking, and you speak softly and kindly to the dead when you don't think anyone is around to see or hear you.”

Wendell looked away though obviously Aaron couldn’t see him. He’d known that Aaron had overheard him whispering to a skeleton during that first case he had worked with the BAU, no way could he forget looking up and seeing the fierce brown eyes of Agent Hotchner aimed at him, but Aaron had never mentioned it until now. 

He felt his cheeks stinging and opened his mouth to beg Aaron never to tell Dr. Brennan. Aaron went on before he could get out a word. 

“Of course your mouth isn't bad either.”

It was a good thing Wendell recognized that flat tone as Aaron’s way of teasing him. A short laugh burst out of him and he held the phone to his chest until he’d calmed down enough to answer. If only he could get Aaron to talk like this more around other people. Then they might understand. 

“I’d kiss you for that if you were here.” That was the problem at the bottom of everything really. Aaron wasn’t here. He said he was in it a hundred percent, but he wasn’t. Not yet. He needed Wendell to be in it first. 

It was mostly a joke. Mostly. Except for how close Wendell was holding the phone to his ear to hear Aaron’s response, and how when he did, that tiniest hitch in his breathing, his own chest tightened. 

“Too bad I’m not there,” Aaron tried to keep it light but Wendell had heard him give over to the one second of fantasy. He’d imagined Wendell kissing him. 

“I could make it up to you,” it slipped out of his mouth. Wendell licked his lips but didn’t stop. “I could send some pictures.”

He’d bet Aaron had never done that either. Maybe it wasn’t work and home being kept separate but Aaron was the one who had broken that rule already by calling him. Wendell felt his pulse pick up and slid a hand down over his stomach. 

“Wendell.” He heard Aaron swallow. “That might be a bad idea. Garcia can access my phone whenever she wants.” 

_Might be_ a bad idea. Wendell grinned. It wasn’t a no. If Aaron felt like telling him no, he would have. He must want to see pictures, to see Wendell. 

“I've got nothing to be ashamed of.” Wendell bit at his lower lip in momentary hesitation but then figured he might as well go for it, even if Aaron hung up the phone. He popped the button on his jeans and sat up enough to grab his bottle of lotion and toss it up onto the bed with him before lying back again. 

Aaron would hear some of that, but Wendell didn’t mind. 

“Wendell.” The quiet strain in Aaron’s voice was nice. Wendell didn’t like to be the only one desperately longing here. 

“Are you hard?” The question came out of nowhere, he knew that, but if Aaron wasn’t, Wendell couldn’t tell from his sudden silence. He thought about adding, “You want to be?” but wet his lips again. Aaron didn’t answer, but he wasn’t hanging up. Fuck, he was barely breathing. It was so hot to know Aaron was waiting on him. If Aaron wanted him to push, he would push. 

“Come on. I owe you something.” 

That got a response, probably harsher than Aaron had meant it to be. “I don’t want you owing me.” 

Wendell shook his head. “Then because I want to?” He heard his voice get thick and low and knew Aaron would too. He cupped himself through his jeans and thought of Aaron. “It’s been… I’m okay with waiting in person but it’s harder when you aren’t here.” He didn’t even mean it as a joke but Aaron didn’t take it as one. Aaron was wound tight on a good day, this was asking a lot from him. Wendell put the phone to his mouth and exhaled. “I miss you. Please. You don’t have to do anything but be there.” 

Some part of him thought that this maybe wasn’t the best way to help Aaron relax, but the rest of him, the parts that were in charge, thought nothing would ever distract Aaron better. 

He didn’t get silence as an answer; he got breathing, heavier and louder than before. He opened his mouth against his phone, just a little shocked despite everything because Aaron was letting him do this. Aaron was _listening_ , Wendell thought, and then jerked his zipper down and out of the way so he could slip a hand inside his boxers. 

He should put his phone on speaker so he could touch his stomach, his nipples, but no way was he risking losing the connection right now. It was bad enough when he had to pull his hand free for another second to awkwardly get some lotion onto his palm. The lotion wasn’t cold, but he shivered anyway and debated using the lube he kept in a drawer instead. But he wasn’t getting up now. He wasn’t going to do anything but jack off and tell Aaron all about it. 

“Fuck.” It was so much better with Aaron’s attention focused on him, taking notes, remembering what Wendell would want for later. Please let there be a later. 

“Are you biting your lip?” That was Aaron talking dirty—asking a question because he didn’t know the answer and coincidentally driving Wendell insane. He was like Dr. Brennan asking hypotheticals about sex at the worst moments. Wendell nodded and then firmed his grip. He didn’t stroke, he just ran his thumb under the head and shuddered. 

“Yeah. Yes.” 

Aaron didn’t tell him not to, but Wendell opened his mouth and immediately missed the sensation of biting down on something. He must have made a lost sound because Aaron spoke again. 

“You like biting during sex.” Aaron could say Wendell had a dirty mouth all he wanted, but it was so much filthier to have Aaron profiling him while he touched himself. Wendell couldn’t feel embarrassed about it. He shifted so that his shirt rode and gave himself a little squeeze. 

“Sorry. I like something in my mouth.” He hoped Aaron would comment on that, play along, ask if Wendell wanted something in his mouth now, but he didn’t. Wendell wanted to ask if he was hard again. If Aaron was still wearing his dark suit and if he was hard in it and sitting frozen on the side of his hotel bed and thinking about Wendell stroking it while thinking about him. 

“Do you leave marks?” 

Wendell groaned. He’d only run his teeth along Aaron’s throat once during one of their short, hot sessions in Aaron’s car. He hadn’t thought Aaron had noticed. Evidently he had. Evidently Aaron had been thinking about it too. Now he was killing Wendell one quiet question at a time. 

“Only if you want me to.” It was a good answer. But Wendell squeezed again and slid his slick fingers up his shaft. He was less playful a second later. “I don’t know. I could. Whatever. Do you want that?” 

Aaron’s silence went on so long Wendell put his feet down against the mattress and pushed up to get farther on the bed. “I don’t know.”

“Okay.” Wendell might have agreed to anything right then. “Okay we can try it later.” He tightened his fingers and bent his knees to arch his hips up off the bed for a second. “Tell me this is working for you.” 

Aaron said his name, just one word rasping in his ear but it almost made Wendell put the phone in his mouth to suck on it. Screw it. If Aaron didn’t know how phone sex worked, Wendell would show him. 

“It’s working for me.” He was speaking raggedly, gulping down breaths between his sentence, between each _up and down_ timed to Aaron’s shallow _in and out_. “I’d rather be sucking you off, but this is totally working for me too.” 

He was holding the phone too tight. He didn’t care. The tension crackled through the phone, across six hundred plus miles and Aaron’s fucked up history. If Aaron wasn’t touching himself right now, he wanted to. Wendell shut his eyes. 

It wasn’t much of a guess that Aaron had thought about his mouth. Aaron was a guy, and Wendell had a nice mouth. He’d thought about Aaron’s mouth too. But this was different, this was Aaron admitting it with one wet breath. 

Wendell put his head back and felt the phone fall. He scrambled to catch it. He didn’t realize he was still talking until the phone was back at his ear and he could hear the harsh puffs of Aaron’s breathing as counterpoint to every pornographic word.

“…Through your suit, I don’t care but I hope you are. Would it help if I told you I’ve thought about it? I don’t deep throat much but, Aaron I’d try. I would go for it.” The strangled sound made him wonder, on some distant level, if that was a sound a nice guy like Aaron was supposed to make. Then he figured Aaron wasn’t so nice, he was actually kind of dangerous. Wendell was supposed to be the nice one. But he was the one offering to choke on Aaron’s dick and trusting Aaron not to hurt him if he did and Aaron was the one so turned on he couldn’t even speak. 

Silent fucking. Wendell could get into that. Doing all the talking with Aaron gasping under him. 

He wanted darker, riskier. “You could pull my hair. Make me gag. Swallow.” Fuck he was close. Aaron was hot, strained air, Wendell’s name exhaled quietly. 

“I could do that.” If Aaron didn’t know what he wanted, they had to try everything, even the things Wendell had done before. It would be different with Aaron. But he struggled to breathe and shifted up into his fist, stroking faster now. “I could be a nice boy with your come in my hair. Fuck Aaron, do you know what you sound like?”

“Wendell.” One warning, rough and tight. Wendell nodded. 

“Or you could slick up if you wanted. First time could be me, one finger, two. But you…” He could picture it as if it was happening but damn it, it _wasn’t_ happening. He swallowed and bit down on his lip and then let it go. “But you, I bet when we fuck you’re a face to face kind of guy. I can uh…I can get behind that.”

He was trying to make a joke. He’d lost his mind. “Not all the time. Sometimes I don’t like…”

“Yes?” 

Wendell shook his head and arched up again. “…Being on bottom but I’ve changed my mind.” 

“What if I think I would like it?” Aaron said it. _Aaron_ said those words, growled them, embarrassed and aroused, directly into Wendell’s ear. Wendell bit his lip and thought about fucking Aaron with his hands on some plastic hotel headboard and Aaron silent and fierce and naked on some crappy duvet and pushed down and came hard all over his hand and his jeans and his stomach. Sticky ropes that made him happy, made him lick his swollen lip and pant into the phone so Aaron would know he’d come. 

“Yeah. Yes.” He belatedly remembered Aaron’s question and tried to answer and wondered if he imagined Aaron’s short, tense chuckle. “Yeah,” Wendell tried again, but his tongue was thick and his skin was hot and thinking, thinking was a problem. There was nothing in his head now but images of him and Aaron together.

“Face to face,” he murmured, then tried to blink himself awake because Aaron’s breathing hadn’t gotten any easier. “Shit. I want to touch you.”

“Among other things.” How Aaron managed the dry tone with a hard on was a mystery. 

“You complaining?” Wendell stretched out and let his legs hang off the bed. He’d clean up later. He wasn’t moving now. 

“I’m not a fool.” It made Wendell smile and sweep his eyes over the room, and the door. He thought of himself against it and Aaron touching him, really touching him for the first time, trying to figure out what Wendell had wanted. 

“Is this what you were waiting for?” Wendell frowned for half a second. “To see if I was ready? Fuck, Aaron, are you kidding? Next time I see you I’m going to jump you. Fair warning.”

He knew Aaron didn’t have his experience in these things, but he should know that much.

“Fair warning,” Aaron repeated so levelly that Wendell knew that Aaron thought he was kidding. Wendell thought about insisting but then gave up when Aaron decided to explain himself. “You didn’t know me.” He was going to kill Wendell with the way he said things like that. 

“You mean that.” Wendell should attempt a calm, reasonable voice. He cleared his throat and settled back but that was as calm as he could get. He was still hot and Aaron had never even laid a hand on him. He should grab a tissue, but he wasn’t moving. “Tell me more.”

“More?” Aaron played along, taking a moment though he had to know what Wendell was talking about. Wendell counted to ten before Aaron spoke again. “I…have scars.” 

Wendell had seen the picture. He remembered Aaron warning him about stitches once and pretending they had been for something harmless and funny. 

“I’m not ashamed, but you should know,” Aaron continued, “so you won't be surprised.”

Wendell moved and got that tissue, but left it in his hand. “That wasn’t what I meant.”

Surprise lifted Aaron’s voice. “You aren't going to ask?”

Wendell focused on cleaning up drying semen then tossed the tissue away and frowned. Dr. Brennan always said she would never murder anyone, but Wendell thought she would kill if someone tried to hurt the people she cared about. He didn’t know if he would. But would he help someone he loved bury a body? Yeah, he might do that. He wasn’t exactly above having a dark side. If Aaron was telling him about it now, he probably would have before. 

“I know of some of it, and the rest I don't need to hear about right now if you don't want to.”

“Okay.” Aaron seemed softer, quieter, speaking slowly in a way that he wouldn’t have around his team. Wendell imagined him lying back against the fake wood headboard of a hotel bed with his tie loosened. If he’d come, he was the quietest man ever, even one with a kid in his house. If he hadn’t come, he was still more relaxed than he’d been before and Wendell had done that. 

He turned to share his grin with the phone. If Aaron hadn’t, Wendell could always help with him that. 

“So what do you want…aside from my mouth that is?” He leaned back with Aaron and listened to him breath. It must have been too long that he’d gone without sex if he was already feeling heat slip down his spine again just from the sound of Aaron breathing. “You called me. Did you want something in particular?” 

Aaron gave him another warm chuckle, driving every last reasonable thought out of Wendell’s mind. Fucking profilers knew everything. 

Aaron chuckled again, and Wendell would swear the sound was filthy. “Just keep talking.”


End file.
